Nancy sat outside Miss Young’s classroom waiting for her allotted ten minutes to discuss anything and everything about her child. Lara was sitting beside her, playing a game on Nancy’s phone.
Ten minutes for parents’ evening, thought Nancy. It was laughable really. Ten minutes wasn’t going to solve anything. For the bullying and the tormenting was still going on, Nancy was certain of it. Lara had stopped talking about it so much; she’d become more quiet and withdrawn, seemingly accepting of the fact she’d been selected to be Rosie’s punchbag.
‘Oh, hi, Nancy,’ called a voice from down the corridor. It was Lorna, walking towards her with a large white envelope clutched in her hands.
‘Teacher collection for Christmas,’ Lorna whispered theatrically, even though Miss Young’s door was closed and there was no way she could hear. Lorna shook the envelope and there was a jangle of coins and the muffled sound of several notes. ‘Mums are putting in a tenner – no pressure, of course – but I know I like to know what the going rate is!’ She laughed.
Nancy got out her purse, pulled out a ten-pound note and posted it into the held-out envelope.
‘What are you going to get her?’ she asked.
‘We usually do one of those voucher cards, you know, the ones you can spend in a number of shops.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘Christmas, eh. Can’t believe it’s coming so soon. And the fair’s only two weeks away! Everything OK?’ asked Lorna.
‘Yes, fine.’ In fact, it had been fairly straightforward. The Christmas fair happened every year and was a well-oiled machine. ‘You’re organizing the floats, right?’
‘Yes. I’ll get them from the treasurer and hand them around as we set up Saturday morning. I’ll collect as we go too, take some of the notes and put them in the safe.’
‘OK, great.’
Lorna hesitated, clearly wanting to say something else. ‘Did you get a place? At Kingsgate?’
Nancy nodded. She knew it was a good school and liked the idea of Lara being near Beth. ‘We did.’
Lorna squealed. ‘Oh, how fantastic! Phoenix too. And he got a scholarship,’ she said, faux casually and Nancy knew she was waiting for a suitable response to her boast.
‘Congratulations.’
‘Aw, thanks. Yeah, we’re pleased,’ she said, shrugging modestly, obviously beside herself with delight. ‘We didn’t put any pressure on him, you know, I think it’s so awful when parents do that, always pushing their kids to achieve. It can be so damaging to their mental health, don’t you think? Kids should be kids, no one should rob them of their childhood.’
Through the window of the classroom, Nancy saw Miss Young and the mother she was with stand up. She gathered her coat and bag. ‘I think it’s me,’ she said to Lorna.
‘Oh yes. Well, I won’t keep you. Lovely to chat.’ Lorna gave a little wave and went on her way.
‘Mrs Miller,’ said Miss Young, holding the door open. Nancy went into the classroom and took a seat on one of the undersized chairs. The room was bright and cheery, hung with Christmas paintings and decorations that the children had made.
Miss Young consulted the pile of flash cards in front of her, holding them upwards so Nancy couldn’t see anyone else’s notes. ‘Lara is extremely bright and capable,’ she said. ‘She’s working at the level we’d expect for her age in all three core subjects: reading, writing and maths.’ Miss Young looked up and smiled, having delivered the good news.
Nancy focused on the teacher’s face. ‘Is she happy?’
It wasn’t the response Miss Young was expecting. Her eyes sparked with alarm and, Nancy thought, a flash of guilt.
‘Mostly, I’d say. There have been a few run-ins as you know—’
‘I think it’s a bit more than that,’ said Nancy coolly. ‘You are aware of what happened at Halloween? I’m assuming Mr Whitman told you?’
‘He did.’
‘And despite his assurances the school are dealing with it, I know Lara is not her usual upbeat self and I strongly suspect Rosie is still not being very nice. What’s she like in class?’
‘You mean Rosie?’
‘Of course Rosie.’
‘I can’t really discuss another—’
Nancy leaned forward, an edge to her voice. ‘I mean Rosie in relation to her behaviour around my daughter.’
‘I try and pair them up with different people.’
‘So she’s still not being kind to Lara.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘But if she was being kind, you wouldn’t need to keep them apart.’ Nancy could feel her patience wearing very thin. She was sick of the pussyfooting around, the careful, careful, touchy-feely, uber-PC approach to what was a very straightforward problem. A problem that was being danced around when it should have been resolved weeks ago.
‘Miss Young, let me ask you something. Do you think it’s OK for this girl to continue to bully Lara? And yes, I know the school doesn’t like using that word because it pertains to all sort of seriousness and problems for your management and paperwork and records for Ofsted inspections, but as far as I can tell, it is still happening. You are the one person who spends more waking hours with my daughter than anyone else, even more than myself during the week. You must see things. You must know things. Tell me something else. Has Rosie’s mother been spoken to? Is she aware of what her child is doing? Does she believe it? I’m asking you, as a worried mum, to please be honest with me and tell me what you think.’
She hadn’t meant it to be such an emotional plea. The worry and pressure of the last few weeks must have got to her more than she realized.
Miss Young’s face had changed. She’d dropped the mask, Nancy thought. She could read empathy and anger and frustration. A flare of hope rose up in her; finally, maybe she would have an ally where it really counted.
‘I’m so sorry Lara’s had a bad time of late,’ said Miss Young and her voice had lost its cool, professional tone, the one designed to keep a distance between herself and parents, the one all teachers used for self-preservation, and Nancy was almost giddy with relief. Now Miss Young spoke genuinely and from the heart. ‘It’s completely unacceptable and I’m aware of a number of—’
A movement at the window made Miss Young look up. Nancy followed her gaze. Mr Whitman was passing the classroom. He gave a clear, courteous nod towards them.
Nancy saw Miss Young stiffen. Then she turned back and Nancy could see she had deflated.
‘No unkind behaviour is acceptable,’ she said. ‘We always work to nip it in the bud as soon as it materializes, and we have a system of escalation if things continue.’
No, please don’t spout generalities and policy at me again, thought Nancy. ‘I’m not talking generally,’ she said desperately. ‘I’m talking about my child. Who is miserable.’
The door suddenly opened. ‘Oh, sorry!’ said a mother, cheerfully apologetic. ‘I didn’t realize you were still going.’ She backed out again.
Nancy’s time was up. The ten minutes had ticked by. The interruption had broken any rapport or attempt at salvaging one.
‘I am keeping an eye on them,’ ventured Miss Young, but for Nancy it wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough. How many more times was she going to be fobbed off?
Rebecca let her next parent take a seat inside as she watched Nancy and Lara walk down the corridor. James had deliberately walked past the classroom at that moment, she was sure of it. He knew the parents’ evening schedule, it was taped to her door.
It was a reminder. A warning. It had shocked her to see him, but then maybe he knew her better than she knew herself. Maybe he knew she’d respond to that poor woman’s heartfelt plea.
It was wrong, she thought. It was all so fucking wrong.